Champlain Avenue Books, Inc. was initiated by one of our authors in memory of Madge Lee Jones to honor all the generosity she displayed throughout her life helping others to accomplish their dreams. Current management continues to honor the integrity and generosity of Madge Lee Jones.

Our goal is to publish quality work in multiple genres. We are a small traditional press, but expect to release titles at a continuing and accelerating pace throughout the next few years. We care about authors, and want to offer the best publishing experience we can.

Submissions

Looking for well written and edited fiction–all genres except horror. Will also consider unique non-fiction projects. Query by email with sample chapter first.

Information

Does the Press Accept: Online Submissions, Unsolicited Submissions, Take Queries Only
Email aechamplainavenuebooks@hotmail.com
Submission Guideline URL
Year Founded 2013

We do not have a lot of information about this publisher. The publisher’s website gives minimal information. If you have any information about this publisher, please contact us. If you have experience with this publisher, or warnings about this publisher, please leave a review. We are always looking for more information for our readers.

If you are from this publisher, owner, or if you work with them, we need more information submitted. Please contact us.

7 thoughts on “Champlain Avenue Books, Inc.”

I have a self published book that I would like to submit to you to be published, I have enclosed the excerpt of the beginning. Read below, and let me know if you think this is a fit for you want to publish. Thank you.

Terry sat quietly in the first row, not crying, yet much closer to that than anything else. The minister recited some bible passages, some personal stories, and even paused twice to let a young woman fill the small brick church with a somber song about letting go, and the hope of the afterlife. It didn’t seem that long ago that life was beautiful, and happiness was an everyday occurrence, and they walked on air, lost in the moment and living in a dream. That is until now. It was a sobering fact that now the two of them now were reduced to one, with one sitting, watching the eulogy of the other. This was not the plan. There were going to live for a good long time. At least long enough to see the inside of a nursing home as residents. Then they were going to terrorize the staff. Get their money’s worth. Not now. Less than three years after getting together, it’s over. Now he just carries around a permanent feeling that he wasn’t going to ever smile again, which he has had ever since, well, that moment.
The minister spoke softly, pausing to infuse a good natured analogy, or a direct quote, yet he heard none of it. Terry panned around the room, to gauge how everyone felt. Most were watching with a tired, ok we get the point, can you wrap it up expression. Some were hanging on every word, yet clearly they were the minority. A couple of teenagers were in the back, texting something. No harm, they don’t know yet what they are doing. A few sensed his look, and locked eyes for a second, only to dart away, in disgust. There was one woman that appeared to be in her fifties with short brown hair dressed in a knee length grey dress and white sneakers next to the door by herself. She looking right at him, smiled with a twinkle in her eye, as if she knew him, yet that lasted for a moment, and then was back to looking at her laptop while listening to the service. Terry turned back to the minister, just in time as he looked his way. He wryly smiled, all the while never pausing the message. His foreheads was a now a dark peach
color, his hair now glistened, as he would wipe his forehead of sweat and slick his black with grey speckled locks with one motion. Black is the traditional color of funerals, yet in a semi closed room with no air-conditioning, it felt out of place.
The service wrapped up, somewhat uneventful. No applause, obviously. Quietly, everyone left, without stopping to talk. One older woman did come towards him, after the rest had left. She had whitish blonde hair, with a small frail figure. She stood 3 inches shorter than Terry at about 5’6” slightly stooped over, and had a wooden cane for balance. She cleared her throat to get Terry’s attention, and then spoke. “Excuse me, I haven’t seen you before, are you related to Chris?”
“Oh no, I was his life partner.” There was a deer in headlights look, as she clearly had no clue what he was talking about. “Thank you for coming,” he added. “I am glad you came over, as I couldn’t place who you are, and if we had met before. My name is Terry, by the way.”
My name is Terry, by the way.”
The woman responded slowly “Oh I was Chris’s eighth grade art teacher. He was always one of my favorite students, as well as one of my brightest. I was so sorry to hear of this, and really wanted to come today.”
“Oh, yes, you are Mrs. Crabtree. He spoke of you often. I am sorry I can’t quote him directly, yet I can say he had a special place in his heart for you.”
She beamed, and gently reached out and touched Terry’s forearm. She then recalled a few select memories, as did he. For a brief moment his spirit was alive, filling them with sense of comfort. She then checked her watch, and realized that time dictated she cut their visit short. She asked if the minister was still there, and seeing him at the end of the hall where he pointed, she nodded, and made her way to him.
She stopped next to the door, and tapped the clergy gently on his left shoulder. He turned, beamed, and they began a quiet, personal conversation. Strangely enough, she turned to see who was behind her, as if she needed privacy at that point. Wait, I know what’s happening thought Terry. She is inquiring about the “life partner” statement. She purposely turned to hide her face from any onlooker. The minister, Reverend Joshua Swanson, covered his mouth, and whispered his response, as he leaned into her. Oh, there is no doubt, they were talking about it, conjuring up images of him and Terry, without a doubt, naked, in compromising positions, performing all kinds of debauchery. The entire time, however, never stopped to think what it would be like to have others imagine what transpires in their bedroom after the lights go out. If I had a nickel for every one of these moments, well, this funeral would be paid for, that’s for sure. There is still one more piece left of this scenario. She has to turn and look squarely at me. Wait for it. Yes there it is. She turns to me. Blank poker face, no smile, or frown.
The eyes, however, are looking down on you, as if you’re a human piece of garbage. The same person she enjoyed a moment ago. Now with this new information, well, you’d have thought I had used the old testament of the bible as toilet paper.
Terry was still stewing over this over as he lay down for the night. He set the alarm, contemplated using the normal ear plugs, and yet realized there was no need. Without Chris, there was no need to turn on the noise maker that emanated a white noise, to sooth him asleep. So no need for the plugs, as there was nothing for him to block out. He rested his head, and starred at the ceiling, until sleep fell over him. This is not going to be easy. 33 years old, and already buried the only one. Life was not supposed to take this direction. Life was going to be good.

I am looking for a publisher. I was an infantry airmobile soldier in the 1st Cavalry, 1st Bn 7th Cavalry from 3/66 to 3/67. During my year I was involved in 65 “combat air assaults”. The platoon I was in was the one cut off in the movie “We Were Soldiers”. My first squad leader was Sergeant Savage who was all through the movie. I sent many letters home which has helped me write this book. I consider my book a tutorial on how grunts lived in Vietnam for the period of time I was there. Some vets have told me after reading the unfinished book they have felt as thought it was therapy for them. By writing 212 letters home and my wife saving them all helped me remember many things I may not have remembered otherwise. I also carried a camera in the field and took more than 100 pictures. Thank you for your consideration, Dennis Blessing.

hi. it’s my sincere hope that you are all doing fine. am Clay Ceel from Kenya and am 26 years old, though part of my family lives in the U.S.A. i began writing when i was 16 years old and my first book was published by the America Star Books in the US. the book is entitled The Strength Of A Woman and it’s available on Amazon, Ingram, Waterstones, Barnes and Noble.anyway, i have other books and i want to confirm if i can work with you. i prefer traditional publishing and my books have a great message that can help shape the wider society in many aspects of human life. my books are already edited and they are error free. we also design outstanding cover designs for my books but you can edit them if necessary because we will always send you an editable cover design file. so, i have a book entitle Youth Can and it’s an inspirational book that empowers youths towards a better future. can i submit it to you? and do you place your published books on Amazon and Ingram on behalf of your authors? thank you for finding all these meaningful. i now look forward to hear from you. be blessed!
Kind regards,